Free Death and the Jubilee by David Dickinson Page A

you,’ he smiled broadly at his sister as if he had been reading her mind, ‘I need to consult
William on a matter of business, something to do with my work.’
    Mary looked slightly disappointed. There was a banging of the front door, sounds of a coat and hat being hung up and a William Burke in evening dress burst into the room.
    ‘Good evening, my dear. Francis, how nice to see you. Even at this hour. I think I know why you have called. Mary, will you excuse us?’
    Safely ensconced in his comfortable study, William Burke helped himself to a large cigar.
    ‘People have been asking about you, Francis, all over the City and elsewhere too, I believe.’ He began the lengthy process of lighting his cigar.
    ‘Did you discover who they were, William?’
    ‘I did not. But I can make a pretty good guess. Have you recently had any dealings with Harrison’s Bank?’
    ‘I think you are in the wrong profession, William,’ said Powerscourt, laughing. ‘This very evening I received a note asking me to call on Harrison’s Bank at ten
o’clock tomorrow morning. I came to ask you for a quick description of the bank, the nature of its business and what you know of the partners in the house.’
    Burke paused and took a long draw on his cigar, looking directly at Powerscourt as he did so. Above the fireplace portraits of Mary and his children stared down from their frames, reminding him
even in here of his family obligations.
    ‘Right, Francis. I will try to give you the broad picture. Harrison’s Bank. I think we should begin with Bismarck. Don’t look so surprised. Just consider the number of
different states in Germany before unification in the 1870s – big ones like Prussia, lots and lots of smaller ones like Hanover and Hesse, Coburg and Würtemburg. In the old Germany
Frankfurt was full of small banking houses doing good business managing their rulers’ money and dealing in foreign exchange and so on between these little principalities. Once they were
united and once they had a single currency, the opportunities for bankers decreased. Some moved to Berlin. Some moved to Vienna, some to New York. But a number came to London. Like the Harrisons
– they still have family connections with banks in Germany, I believe, but their principal centre is now London.’
    Burke paused, deciding where to go next.
    ‘There had been German banks in London before this, of course, so it wasn’t virgin territory for them. Some backed the winner in the Napoleonic Wars and found richer pickings with
the conquerors. Old Mr Harrison, as he was known, the headless man in the river, brought them here and established them as a considerable force in the City.’
    ‘Do they still have links with Germany?’ asked Powerscourt.
    ‘They do,’ Burke replied. ‘Like most of the German houses in the City the sons are educated in Germany. Often they begin their careers in Frankfurt or Berlin or Hamburg before
coming back to London. And the German ethos is still strong.’
    ‘What do you mean by that?’ asked Powerscourt.
    ‘They work much harder than we do for a start. Most of the clerks in the houses in the City work forty to fifty hours a week. The German ones work sixty or even seventy hours and they are
all expected to be fluent in a couple of other languages as well.’
    ‘What is their particular speciality, William?’
    ‘Forgive me,’ said Burke, annoyed with himself suddenly. ‘I am not making the position clear.’ He tapped on his cigar as if collecting his thoughts. Powerscourt
waited.
    ‘There are in fact two Harrison’s Banks. Harrison’s City – I forget the full name – deals in the City of London, acceptances, issuing loans, the normal sort of
thing. Harrison’s Private is in the West End and looks after the money of the wealthy, like Adams or Coutts. They do a lot of work with charities too, I believe.’
    ‘Why did they break into two?’ asked Powerscourt.
    ‘I think there’s a perfectly innocent